


Those are not the words

by blackmustache



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-11
Updated: 2012-04-11
Packaged: 2017-11-03 11:23:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/380860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackmustache/pseuds/blackmustache
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darren stays on in the UK after the tour ends, and distance (and some texting) puts a few things into perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those are not the words

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the events in this really happened, but any thoughts or conversations (aside from a little real life tweeting) are totally fabricated by me.

Author: [](http://blackmustache.livejournal.com/profile)[**blackmustache**](http://blackmustache.livejournal.com/)  
Title: Those are not the words  
Pairing: Chris/Darren  
Rating: PG  
Disclaimer: This is RPF. I am in no way implying that the following ever took place. It is a work of fiction.  
Summary: Darren stays on in the UK after the tour ends, and distance (and some texting) puts a few things into perspective.  
Author's note: Some of the events in this really happened, but any thoughts or conversations (aside from a little real life tweeting) are totally fabricated by me.  
Word Count: 2221

  
Darren groaned as his phone vibrated on the night stand, opening one eye to squint at the clock. He wanted to be mad about being woken up, but it was just after nine - hardly inhuman. He ought to be thinking about getting up and showering, anyway. Pushing himself up on his elbows, he reached for his phone and poked at it until it came out of sleep mode.

>   
> _From: Chris  
>  Message: Watching videos of your gigs today on YouTube. Jealous of you, rock star. C x_   
> 

Darren couldn’t help but laugh as he worked out what time it was in LA.

>   
> _To: Chris_  
>  Message: Looking for something to help put you to sleep? Six weeks on tour and you’re not sick of my singing yet? D x

> From: Chris  
>  Message: Six weeks rooming with you and I can’t sleep without your snoring any more. ;) x

> To: Chris  
>  Message: That’s because I’m not there to stop you drinking five cans of Diet Coke before bed, not because I’m not snoring. :P

> From: Chris  
>  Message: You keep on believing that, D. I’ll be over here, Diet Coke free (seriously) and still unable to sleep. x

> To: Chris  
>  Message: So you ARE using videos of me as a sleep aid. Awesome. :o

Darren’s phone was silent for a while after that, and he flicked on the TV and curled back up into the covers of the hotel bed. He and Chris had become best friends within days of first meeting. They were the only members of the cast who had roomed together for the entire tour - everybody else switched up every couple of nights, for a change of pace (or in some cases, before their sleeping habits drove one or two of them to murder). But everybody knew that there was no point in trying to share with Darren or Chris, because if you did, you would just end up with the other one spending the entire time in your room anyway, sleepily conversing in code. Or it seemed like code to everybody else, at least. To Chris and Darren it all made perfect sense.

Not having Chris in bed across the room was just _weird_ to Darren now, the idea that he was five thousand miles away even more so.

During the tour they had flirted a little. Darren knew that they’d been a little (okay, a lot) more tactile than normal, flashing more secret smiles at each other, their eyes lingering just a second or two longer than necessary on numerous occasions. More than once Chris had fallen asleep on Darren’s bed while they watched a late movie, and Darren had found he had neither the desire or the energy to lift Chris over to his own bed. He just smiled and turned the television off, heading to the bathroom or to make himself a drink, and each time when he sat back down on the edge of the bed, Chris stirred and apologised, smiling sleepily, moving over to his own bed without ever discussing what was happening.

But now that Chris was in another continent, Darren realised how much Chris had gotten under his skin. He wanted Chris to always be there beside him, to talk to, or laugh with, or, yeah, _cuddle_. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like that about _anyone_. He knew it wasn’t a case of ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ - it was a serious case of absence making the heart realise how fond it already was.

“Damn,” he breathed. This was the kind of epiphany moment he really wasn’t awake enough for. He glanced at the clock. It had been almost an hour since the last text he’d sent to Chris, with no reply. It would be almost 2am in LA now - Darren sincerely hoped Chris had managed to get to sleep... though that didn’t stop him checking his phone every thirty seconds in the hope of another reply.

When Darren came out of the shower, he checked again.

>   
> _From: Chris  
>  Message: You’re seriously hot in these videos, D. x_   
> 

Darren stared at his phone. He didn’t know how to reply to that. Of course, it made sense that Chris would decide to bring up the very topic they’d skirted around (okay, flat out ignored) all summer at the exact same time that Darren realised what he actually wanted. The fact that Chris was usually thinking the same thing as him was what made their conversations so nonsensical to anybody who wasn’t them - entire important chunks could be left unsaid and they would still both know what was going on.

He licked his lips nervously as he chose his words.

>   
> _To: Chris  
>  Message: I know I sweat a lot when I’m performing, no need to point it out! x_   
> 

The reply came within seconds.

>   
> _From: Chris  
>  Message: That’s not what I meant and you know it. x_   
> 

Darren sat down on the edge of the bed, still wrapped in a towel, hair dripping onto the sheets. He wrote and deleted a handful of texts - too glib, too pushy, too subject-changey (even one that was too _smutty_ ) before it dawned on him that Chris was still Chris and he was overthinking this.

>   
> _To: Chris_  
>  Message: I wish you hadn’t had to go back right away.

> From: Chris  
>  Message: Me too.

> To: Chris  
>  Message: Go to sleep. I’ll call you tonight and sing you a lullaby. xx

> From: Chris  
>  Message: Dork. (Yes, please.) xx 

Darren smiled to himself and finished getting ready, heading out to meet Joe and get breakfast with an extra spring in his step. He spent the rest of the day bouncing around a tiny bit more than usual, and as it turned out he couldn’t wait until night to get in touch again. Right after the matinee, he headed for the bathroom and locked himself away, pulling his phone from his pocket.

>   
> _To: Chris  
>  Message: When the videos go up, watch Sami. x_   
> 

Hours later, when Darren was on stage performing the evening show, Chris replied.

>   
> _From: Chris  
>  Message: Of course they sang your name. They all see what I see. I would have joined them if I’d been there. I’m joining them now in my room instead. x_   
> 

When Darren got off stage and saw the message, he beamed.

>   
> _To: Chris_  
>  Message: Now who’s the dork? :D

> From: Chris  
>  Message: :P What time is it there? Is it tomorrow yet? You should go to sleep. I’ll just watch this video on a loop for my lullaby. x

> To: Chris  
>  Message: Huuuuuuuuge dork. Night night. xx

Darren’s hotel room still felt quiet without Chris’s breathing (or sleep walking, or sleep talking) but this time he managed to fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He woke late the next morning, worn out from weeks of performing, and couldn’t convince his body to get out of the gorgeous, fluffy, warm bed just yet. Eventually he got up and ready, meeting Joe and heading (a little late) for the Harry Potter premiere. Just as he arrived, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

>   
> _From: Chris  
>  Message: Do something funny for the cameras. I’m watching the live stream._   
> 

Darren smirked to himself and did the best he could, arriving in front of the press and jumping around in excitement ( _as if I wouldn’t have done that anyway_ , he thought to himself). As he was ushered away from the cameras and towards the theater, another text came through.

>   
> _From: Chris_  
>  Message: Hilarious! You’re like a puppy. An adorable, sexy puppy.

> To: Chris  
>  Message: You think puppies are sexy? Pervert.

He switched his phone off and headed inside, still smiling.

He turned it back on again before the afterparty, to sneak a glance at Twitter (such an addict).

>   
> 
> 
> _**msleamichele** Lea Michele  
>  Is everyone else having a happy day?? :)_  
> 

>   
> __**DarrenCriss** Darren Criss  
>  **@msleamichele** Me! MEEEE! I am Lea!!!! Yayyyyyyyy!!!!! Weeeee!!! This day ROCKS!!!! AHhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!  
> 

Darren arrived back at his hotel room (slightly buzzing with a mixture of excitement and alcohol) when it was already well and truly light outside, and collapsed on the bed. Kicking off his shoes and throwing his jacket onto the sofa, he scrolled through his timeline. One tweet stood out.

>   
> __**chriscolfer** Chris Colfer  
>  **@msleamichele @darrencriss** I want whatever you guys are on! ;)  
>  32 seconds ago.

Well, if Chris was up, it would be rude not to call. International call charges be damned. It rang for what Darren (who was slightly drunk at this juncture) judged to be precisely three quarters of a second before Chris answered.

“Hi!”

“Hi yourself,” Darren smiled. “I owe you a lullaby.”

“I don’t know,” Chris teased. “Do I really want a lullaby from somebody who thinks I’m a pervert?”

Darren cackled at that, and then sat bolt upright on the bed. “Hold on, I’ma put you on speaker.”

He heard a slightly confused “...okay?” come from the phone as he took it from his ear, pressed a button, almost hung up on Chris accidentally and then finally managed to get him on speakerphone.

“Can you hear me?”

“This is weird, Darren.”

Darren took that as a yes. “Good.” He started telling Chris all about the premiere, while loosening the tie around his neck, followed by wriggling out of his pants. He was halfway through a story about fans with Starkid posters when Chris cleared his throat. “What?”

“Dare... are you _stripping_?!” Chris’s voice sounded oddly strained.

“Am I...” Darren looked down at himself as he trailed off. The pants were now somewhere across the other side of the room to where his jacket had been flung, and his shirt was unbuttoned. This was a boxers-and-bare-chest situation. It hadn’t seemed weird when he started, he was just tired and this seemed the quickest route to settling down in bed while still getting to talk to Chris. But now that he thought about it... “No?”

The fact it was a question, not a statement, was all Chris needed. He started to laugh. “You so _are_!”

Darren figured he may as well remove the shirt as well, and then crawled back up the bed, towards the nightstand where his phone was sitting, and settled himself under the covers. “That’s kind of totally inappropriate, isn’t it?”

Chris thought about it for a moment. “A little.” A pause, and then, whispered, “but sexy.”

“Sexy puppy?”

Chris laughed. “No, Dare. Just sexy.”

Darren closed his eyes and yawned. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”

It was less than thirty seconds later that Chris got his lullaby, in the form of Darren’s gentle snores.

\--

Darren landed in LA a week later. He was only in town for one night before he had to leave again for Florida, and he knew there were Important Things that he should be doing right now, like laundry or sleeping. But instead of going home, he got the cab to take him to Chris’s apartment.

He stood on the steps out front, looking up at Chris’s window and was thankful he could see a light on inside, and shadows of Chris moving around.

He reached out to press the buzzer, and then something stopped him. Instead he fished around in his pocket for his phone.

>   
> _To: Chris  
>  Message: Come outside. _   
> 

He kept one eye trained on the window, where the Chris-shaped shadow stopped moving, and then crept closer to the window before the curtain moved and an eye appeared.

Twenty seconds later Chris flung open the front door and stared at Darren, eyes wide and a little breathless. This was it. Texting - even inappropriate texting - could be ignored, but Chris knew that whether he invited Darren inside for coffee or for _coffee_ right now was going to define the entire rest of their relationship.

Darren looked wild - his hair, his eyes, everything - and Chris knew that was what came from almost 24 hours of travelling.

“Hi,” Darren whispered, smiling.

Chris returned the smile and shuffled out onto the step, closing the gap to a distance that was new (when they weren’t in character, at least). He could feel Darren’s breath on his neck. “Hi.”

And then they were kissing. When thinking back on it later, neither of them would remember who kissed who or what happened in those in-between seconds, until Darren pulled away, his hands resting gently on Chris’s hips.

“I smell,” he started, a happy blush rising on his cheeks. “The flight was _long_ and the guy beside me drank so much I thought he was going to puke on me, and... yeah. I smell.”

Chris gurgled with laughter, trailing a finger down Darren’s arm. “Least romantic thing I’ve ever heard, Dare.” He kissed Darren again then, mumbling against his lips. “I can’t seem to care, though.”

Darren grinned back at Chris, and allowed himself to be taken by the hand and led into the apartment, his bags all but forgotten on the front step. 


End file.
